


i'll sleep when i'm dead

by hysterekly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:12:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1411156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hysterekly/pseuds/hysterekly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchester brothers have proven time and again that they're willing to lay down their lives to help protect everyone else, but letting each other die is not something they're very good at. If the world no longer needs to depend on the Winchesters, where does that leave them? If Heaven is a place where they can still be together, without all the troubles of Earthly life, then what is there to fear in Death?</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll sleep when i'm dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iprincealii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iprincealii/gifts).



> inspired by this lullaby storm edit of Carry On My Wayward Son by tumblr user aelabee. let's be real, it's basically the unofficial theme song for Supernatural, right? this is dedicated to Ali, who felt like the song reminded her of Mary singing her boys to sleep.

Listen to the song [here](http://bit.ly/1dWdGpN).

* * *

Today is different. He can feel it, even before his eyes open. It’s nothing to do with the grey skies and the rain, or the song playing over the radio. Today is when it happens, and he feels a familiar mixture of anxiety and excitement. Today, they do what every hunter dreams of, what they’ve tried so many times before: they’ll send every single demon back to the depths of Hell and lock the door behind them. It makes him smile as he lies in bed, listening to the steady drumbeat he hears in the rhythm of the downpour, the rumble of the thunder. Dean wonders if that’s the universe’s way of playing out his funeral march, and knows he’ll pay that price if he has to.

There’s a lingering melody ringing in his ears that threads through the percussion on the window near his bed, a mother’s voice with a lullaby on her lips. It echoes in the motel room as he sits up to see Sam glance over at him with a resigned smile.

* * *

It’s raining. They’re afraid; he bears the Mark, he wields the knife, he’s killed their Queen and countless of their kin. Black eyes for a black soul, and that’s the joke; there’s an honesty to them. It crawls beneath his skin, it hides in his smile, his secret shame. He was born and bred to this, a soldier and a martyr. There’s no one at his back but Sam, the way it should be. Family is everything for Dean, it’s what his life is centered around, and every time something comes between them it aches like a battle scar. There’s a weight between them and there’s no time to find out if it can ever fully be shifted, but that doesn’t matter. What does is that despite everything, they’re still together. Brothers ‘til the end.

Desperate, they’re so desperate; they fall beneath his blade, and it burns like whiskey inside of him, and they just keep coming for more. He feels powerful, in control, and he can’t stop laughing. It scares him even as he grins. Distracted by the face twisted in fear engulfing his vision, he doesn’t sense the demon at his back. It doesn’t hurt, at first, when they take out his legs, and he collapses to the ground as they descend on him to rend his flesh from his bones.

He’s familiar with this scene, though they’re more creative in Hell. It all stops so suddenly, they’re off of him and Dean suddenly feels like he’s in his own little bubble. There is a cacophony of sounds flooding the graveyard around him, but all he can do is frown at the clouds. Of course. Dean Winchester, he just can’t do anything right. When it really counts, he fails, falls short of the mark, gets too cocky and doesn’t watch his back. Amateur. He knows just what his father would say, and for quite a while his vision just won’t keep steady. Maybe he falls in and out of consciousness, he can’t be sure.

Sam’s voice pierces through the cotton in his ears, shouting something, he can’t--then he recognizes it. His name. That’s not right--those aren’t the words he should be speaking, and Dean frowns. He’s being a distraction, Sam has to complete the spell, he can’t fight off all these demons. Not alone. It hurts, breathing hurts, moving hurts, talking hurts, but he tries it anyway. Waving Sam off is one of the hardest things he’s ever done, because he’s sending Sam off to a certain death. The human soul is a powerful thing, and it takes a lot of power to close off Hell.

That’s the price they’re going to have to pay, and he watches wearily as Sam moves in and out of sight. There are words carried across the tombstones that Dean can’t really hear, but he knows them by heart anyway. There’s a flash of light, and the demons are running, fighting against the force that is calling them back. Sulfur turns the air acrid, and he wrinkles his nose as he hears Sammy scream. His vision clears as he calls his brother’s name, pulls himself up almost to his knees in an attempt to catch his brother as he falls, but he only manages to fall on his face. There’s no more screaming.

He’s drenched. Rain, mud, blood; some of the blood is his, mingling with the blood of the corpses strewn about him. Weak, he feels so weak, the life slowly draining from a wound he can barely feel anymore. Sam’s face is in his line of sight, and it keeps him moving, dragging his heavy body forward. Collapsing on his side, Dean rolls onto his back and his head knocks painfully against Sam’s. There’s no protestation; no elbow to his ribs as retribution, no playful insults, just his own wheezing breath. If he were anyone else, he might say that he’ll never hear his brother’s voice again, that in a moment they’ll both be dead and that will be it; but a Winchester knows better. Dean knows what’s waiting for him, and he can’t believe it’s taken this long to find an ending.

As he blinks to keep the cold rain out of his eyes, Dean realizes that the graveyard feels peaceful. Not in the grab-it-when-you-can kind of peace, but in the blissful feeling that nothing bad will ever happen again, the real kind of peace. The job is finished, his time is up, and for once he’ll be at a point where he doesn’t have to worry about anyone else ever again. It is with triumph that he remembers all those people who called him stupid, a big dumb gorilla, a worthless speck of dust. He used to hold it as a truth in his heart, but his triumph comes as he realizes he’s proven them wrong. Dean Winchester was not a waste of oxygen, he left his mark on the world for good or bad, and it’s strange to feel so powerful in, above all, proving himself wrong. Dean Winchester deserved to live a life that was better than what he got, and yet…it has all brought him to this moment, the good and the bad.

Today, Sam and Dean made a difference. They’ve measured up, accomplished something important. It makes all the questionable things they’ve done and all the tragedies they’ve gone through seem almost insignificant in these last moments--the memory of the pain fades fast. The demons are sealed away, the gate to Hell is closed, and they did that. Sam and Dean. Brothers to the end.

It feels like silence settles in his soul, a happy warmth spreading through his belly; although that might also be the gaping wound in his flesh, as everything feels fuzzy. Pleasantly numb, he feels warm and sleepy. He can still feel the rain falling on his face, but it’s warm now. Dean thinks a lullaby slips between his teeth before he chokes on something metallic, but he can’t quite hear anything anymore; a flashing crackle of lightning is a wonderful last sight to see before he slips away. Bloodied lips are stretched in a cheeky smile as rain falls into a glassy stare turned toward the heavens.

 

 


End file.
